


Hockey

by codewc (orphan_account)



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Homophobia, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Reunions, minor racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/codewc
Summary: anonymous request: Russel meets Hannibal





	Hockey

“Do you want me to leave?”

Murdoc looks up from the snow globe in his hands. “What?” he asks, puzzled.

Russel feels so awkward in the small aisle, as if any subtle movement he makes could knock over an entire shelf of globes. “I just...” Russel wrings his hands, “Do you not want me here? It’s a big deal and I’m worried that I’m...” Russel is careful as he moves closer to Murdoc. “...intruding.”

Murdoc purses his lips in thought, turning the globe in his hands. “Do…” Murdoc hesitates, his head dropping as he frowns at the globe “…do you want to leave?”

Russel shakes his head. “No, I don’t. But it’s not about me- “

“-Russel, I haven’t seen my brother in a little over a decade.”

Murdoc stares at his thumb tracing the globe’s curve, trying to maintain his cool. “No offense, but I think it’d be pretty fucking awful if you left me alone today.”

Russel lifts his hand and rests it on Murdoc’s shoulder, a soft smile gracing his lips. Warm relief pools in Murdoc’s stomach. He leans back into Russel’s hand as it massages the arch of his neck, feeling the stress being kneaded out of him. “You know what?” Murdoc places the globe back on the shelf. “I know exactly what I’m gonna get him.” Murdoc smiles up at Russel, who quirks an eyebrow in reply.

 

* * *

 

Weirdly enough, Hannibal is a blonde.

Save for the hair and nose, Murdoc and Hannibal look eerily similar. He is a bit taller than Murdoc, though. And, unlike Murdoc, Hannibal has gone a bit grey. Okay, maybe they’re not that similar, Russel concludes.

“You’re late.” is the first thing that Hannibal says, and folds his arms across his chest. “We’ve got ten minutes before that guard drags me back to my cell, so lap it up while you can, Mud boy.”

The ashtray lands on the table with a thud. Murdoc smiles wryly, then leans back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head. “Happy birthday, Ham.”

Russel shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he watches the two of them glare at each other for painfully long seconds. Hannibal lifts an unwashed finger and points it accusingly at Russel. “Who’s this fella?” he mumbles, not breaking eye contact with Murdoc.

Murdoc glances at Russel before letting his arms fall by his sides once more. “Russel Hobbs. You know him.”

Hannibal thinks, then snaps his fingers. “Ah, the drummer! Right. ‘Sup, mate.” Hannibal greets, extending his hand to him. Russel doesn’t take it, making a non-committal noise. Hannibal awkwardly rests his untouched hand on the table. He licks his lips in thought.

“You do know I can’t smoke in here.” Hannibal gestures to the ashtray. Murdoc smiles brightly, bobbing slightly in his seat. “I know.” Murdoc says smugly.

Hannibal huffs in irritation, then suspiciously looks over Russel. “Don’t believe everything this arsehole tells you,” Hannibal warns, nodding in Murdoc’s direction. “He loves to exaggerate.”

“I know,” Russel shrugs, “but it’s kind of hard to believe you, too, considering...” Russel gestures to the visitation room they’re in, and Hannibal chuckles dryly. “You’re funny.” Hannibal says, his smile a little eager. “He’s _really_ funny, Mud.”

Russel glances at Murdoc, finding it weird that he isn’t snapping back. He seems nervous with the way he’s fiddling with his fingers. Murdoc doesn’t meet Russel’s gaze, keeping his eyes on his lap.

“Hey,” Hannibal says, gaining Russel’s attention. “Murdoc and I used to play this game, he ever tell you about it?”

Russel shakes his head.

“Right.” Hannibal drags the ash tray closer to himself with his two fingers. “See, when it got late, I would sneak into Murdoc’s room. Hid under his bed, or his closet, or just stood above him. I would jump up and grab him. Used to make him scream like a pig. He always thought it was Dad, yeah? Thought he was coming to beat him for staying up late ‘cause he thought Murdoc was up to something. It was bloody stupid of him, because the screaming would just wake Dad up any way. If he didn’t scream, I’d do him over myself. He lost no matter what. It was hilarious.”

Hannibal laughs. It’s a smooth, clean laugh, unlike Murdoc’s. He looks to Russel for some mutual humour, but receives none. Russel just looks at him, disgusted. “I don’t think that’s funny.” Russel says solemnly. “Sounds kind of sad, honestly. Can’t imagine wasting my Friday nights terrifying my little brother like that.” Russel looks down at Hannibal, making him feel small as he sinks in his seat. “What? You really didn’t have anything better do to? You’re such a loser, man.”

Murdoc looks up at Russel, genuinely impressed at how easily he’s managed to put Hannibal in his place. There’s something incredible about having Russel defend Murdoc, too. It’s unbelievably satisfying, and Murdoc can’t help but feel himself smile. Then Hannibal gasps.

“Wait,” he says, sitting back up. “I see what’s going on here.”

Panic strikes at Murdoc’s chest. “What?” Murdoc’s voice breaks, and he swallows. Russel furrows his brow and looks puzzled at Hannibal’s excited stare.

“Murdoc never brings his little friends with him to visit.” Hannibal elaborates. “And none of his little friends talk back to me, neither. I can see the way you look at him.” Then Hannibal turns to Murdoc. “Holy shit, I knew it.” Murdoc freezes as Hannibal concludes:

“You’re a fag.”

Russel sits still in shock. Murdoc dares to blink and Hannibal continues.

“You’re not some bloody Casanova that can't keep a woman; you’re not a _real man_. You’re just a little poof.” Hannibal scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief, then leans in and speaks just above a whisper for Russel to hear. “And not only that, but you’re getting fucked by some ghetto fatarse. It just keeps getting better.”

Russel, highly offended, pipes up with a strong “hey” before Murdoc slams his fist on the table, causing the room to go silent. Murdoc shuts his eyes and takes a breath, then looks Hannibal right in the eye with a mad grin.

“That’s exactly right, Ham,” Murdoc says coolly. “I _fucking_ love blokes, I love _fucking_ blokes. And they love fucking me! What? You think you’ve caught me? Christ, it’s been thirty years, Ham!”

Murdoc jumps eagerly in his seat as Hannibal’s face adopts a horrified expression. “I’m a big ol’ poof, that’s me!” Murdoc tilts his head with a smile. “And I fucking love it, Ham.” Then Murdoc turns and claps his hand on Russel’s shoulder. “And I fucking love his big, fat, black cock” Murdoc announces proudly, spacing his words for emphasis.

“And he loves my tight ass!” Murdoc’s voice rises with every sentence, he leans forward to meet Hannibal’s eyes with a confident smirk. “And I’m having the fucking time of my life while you sit in here with your sad little memories of being the sad little man that you’ll always be, ‘kay? Happy fucking 60th, Ham!”

Murdoc abruptly gets up from his seat and reaches to tug at Russel’s arm. “C’mon, babe, let’s go. Smells a bit too much like piss in here.” Russel stares dumbfounded at Murdoc who walks away without hesitation. He even has a little spring in his step.

Russel turns back to a pale, shaken Hannibal.

“Uh,” Russel drawls before following Murdoc’s lead, “enjoy your ashtray.”

 

* * *

 

Russel finds Murdoc pacing on the sidewalk. “I need a drink.” Murdoc tells Russel, rubbing his upper arms. Russel shakes his head, then rests his hand on Murdoc’s shoulder, prompting the shorter man to stop his pacing.

“What did I just do?” Murdoc asks Russel, his eyes wide. “What the fuck did I just do?”

Russel chuckles dryly, then slides his hand onto Murdoc’s back, bringing him closer. “I don’t know myself,” Russel says, his voice sounding amazed. Murdoc sighs, leaning himself against Russel. Eventually, Russel says flippantly “You didn’t really need me today then, huh?”

Murdoc lifts his head, glaring at Russel. “Were you even paying attention? Stop being so fucking stupid today, Russ.” Then Murdoc wraps his arms around Russel, and sighs even more heavily against his chest. Russel rubs Murdoc’s back.

“You were right.”

“What?”

“The snow globes were too good for him.”

**Author's Note:**

> my gay gorillaz blog is @russdoc


End file.
